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“
I
suppose
you
are
Mr
.
Matthew
Cuthbert
of
Green
Gables
?
”
she
said
in
a
peculiarly
clear
,
sweet
voice
.
“
I
’
m
very
glad
to
see
you
.
I
was
beginning
to
be
afraid
you
weren
’
t
coming
for
me
and
I
was
imagining
all
the
things
that
might
have
happened
to
prevent
you
.
I
had
made
up
my
mind
that
if
you
didn
’
t
come
for
me
to
-
night
I
’
d
go
down
the
track
to
that
big
wild
cherry
-
tree
at
the
bend
,
and
climb
up
into
it
to
stay
all
night
.
I
wouldn
’
t
be
a
bit
afraid
,
and
it
would
be
lovely
to
sleep
in
a
wild
cherry
-
tree
all
white
with
bloom
in
the
moonshine
,
don
’
t
you
think
?
You
could
imagine
you
were
dwelling
in
marble
halls
,
couldn
’
t
you
?
And
I
was
quite
sure
you
would
come
for
me
in
the
morning
,
if
you
didn
’
t
to
-
night
.
”
Matthew
had
taken
the
scrawny
little
hand
awkwardly
in
his
;
then
and
there
he
decided
what
to
do
.
He
could
not
tell
this
child
with
the
glowing
eyes
that
there
had
been
a
mistake
;
he
would
take
her
home
and
let
Marilla
do
that
.
She
couldn
’
t
be
left
at
Bright
River
anyhow
,
no
matter
what
mistake
had
been
made
,
so
all
questions
and
explanations
might
as
well
be
deferred
until
he
was
safely
back
at
Green
Gables
.
“
I
’
m
sorry
I
was
late
,
”
he
said
shyly
.
“
Come
along
.
The
horse
is
over
in
the
yard
.
Give
me
your
bag
.
”
“
Oh
,
I
can
carry
it
,
”
the
child
responded
cheerfully
.
“
It
isn
’
t
heavy
.
I
’
ve
got
all
my
worldly
goods
in
it
,
but
it
isn
’
t
heavy
.
And
if
it
isn
’
t
carried
in
just
a
certain
way
the
handle
pulls
out
—
so
I
’
d
better
keep
it
because
I
know
the
exact
knack
of
it
.
It
’
s
an
extremely
old
carpet
-
bag
.
Oh
,
I
’
m
very
glad
you
’
ve
come
,
even
if
it
would
have
been
nice
to
sleep
in
a
wild
cherry
-
tree
.
We
’
ve
got
to
drive
a
long
piece
,
haven
’
t
we
?
Mrs
.
Spencer
said
it
was
eight
miles
.
I
’
m
glad
because
I
love
driving
.
Oh
,
it
seems
so
wonderful
that
I
’
m
going
to
live
with
you
and
belong
to
you
.
I
’
ve
never
belonged
to
anybody
—
not
really
.
But
the
asylum
was
the
worst
.
I
’
ve
only
been
in
it
four
months
,
but
that
was
enough
.
I
don
’
t
suppose
you
ever
were
an
orphan
in
an
asylum
,
so
you
can
’
t
possibly
understand
what
it
is
like
.
It
’
s
worse
than
anything
you
could
imagine
.
Mrs
.
Spencer
said
it
was
wicked
of
me
to
talk
like
that
,
but
I
didn
’
t
mean
to
be
wicked
.
It
’
s
so
easy
to
be
wicked
without
knowing
it
,
isn
’
t
it
?
They
were
good
,
you
know
—
the
asylum
people
.
But
there
is
so
little
scope
for
the
imagination
in
an
asylum
—
only
just
in
the
other
orphans
.
It
was
pretty
interesting
to
imagine
things
about
them
—
to
imagine
that
perhaps
the
girl
who
sat
next
to
you
was
really
the
daughter
of
a
belted
earl
,
who
had
been
stolen
away
from
her
parents
in
her
infancy
by
a
cruel
nurse
who
died
before
she
could
confess
.
I
used
to
lie
awake
at
nights
and
imagine
things
like
that
,
because
I
didn
’
t
have
time
in
the
day
.
I
guess
that
’
s
why
I
’
m
so
thin
—
I
am
dreadful
thin
,
ain
’
t
I
?
There
isn
’
t
a
pick
on
my
bones
.
I
do
love
to
imagine
I
’
m
nice
and
plump
,
with
dimples
in
my
elbows
.
”
With
this
Matthew
’
s
companion
stopped
talking
,
partly
because
she
was
out
of
breath
and
partly
because
they
had
reached
the
buggy
.
Not
another
word
did
she
say
until
they
had
left
the
village
and
were
driving
down
a
steep
little
hill
,
the
road
part
of
which
had
been
cut
so
deeply
into
the
soft
soil
,
that
the
banks
,
fringed
with
blooming
wild
cherry
-
trees
and
slim
white
birches
,
were
several
feet
above
their
heads
.
The
child
put
out
her
hand
and
broke
off
a
branch
of
wild
plum
that
brushed
against
the
side
of
the
buggy
.
“
Isn
’
t
that
beautiful
?
What
did
that
tree
,
leaning
out
from
the
bank
,
all
white
and
lacy
,
make
you
think
of
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Well
now
,
I
dunno
,
”
said
Matthew
.
